Dear Sirs and Madams,
I am writing in reference to our recent interactions this Friday afternoon at the Garden State Plaza Mall. Let me begin by acknowledging that you have a very difficult job, sitting out there among the mall foot traffic trying to hawk your wares to passersby, most of whom are either there to totally check out the guy who sits behind them in bio and usually have no money, or others who are too busy trying to quickly maneuver around the first group in order to get their shopping done and get out of this hell hole of commerce with their sanity intact.
I am in the latter group.
To the lovely Isreali man selling Dead Sea beauty products, no, I do not have time to stop and try your hand cream no matter how beautiful you tell me I am (and let us not discuss the falsity of this statement in my current state). My hands do not look like this because I am using the wrong hand cream, it is because they spend so much time submerged in a sink full of dirty dishes, bathing children and wiping asses, I have no time to use any product at all. Even if it is FULL OF NUTRIENTS!
To you hair-straightener-lady, no, I do not want you to tame my hair with your ionic, ceramic, miracle straightener. My hair is not in a ponytail because I haven’t found the right styling tool, it’s because I have three children. The fact that my husband claims he would tell me to my face I was ugly should I cut my hair is the only thing preventing me from chopping it off entirely. Also, I haven’t washed my hair in three days and if I remove the elastic holding up said pony it might actually just remain in that configuration and I would die of shame.
And you, child modeling agency workers, dressed in your Express black suits, puh-lease. First of all, I live in the area and frequent this mall quite often, and have been dodging you guys for years, so the thrill of having a complete stranger tell me my daughters have beautiful eyes and my son has such a great smile wore off six years ago (no matter how true those claims might be). Also, I just saw you proposition the mother of the kid with the hare-lip and wall-eye over there so your credibility is pretty much in the crapper.
Lastly, Verizon guy. Yes, I have a cell phone. In fact, I have a Blackberry that, unfortunately, my son is using as a chew toy, otherwise, I would have clamped it to my ear thirty feet back to have a very spirited pretend discussion with no one at all in order to prevent you from trying to engage me in a sales pitch.
My last and most important point to all of you, my friends, is to be more discerning about whom you solicit. I know your job is boring and frustrating and you work for commission, but seriously, is a mother with three children under seven, two of whom she is physically dragging along while the other is crying and trying to extricate himself from the restraints in his stroller, really the ideal mark?
So let’s come to an agreement. When I am alone, feel free to pitch away and, perhaps, one day I will actually buy something (but not one of those creepy clips with the fake hair on them – you can just leave me alone). And when I am with my offspring, let’s look at each other with beleaguered smiles and leave it at that, because even though you are the only one getting paid, we are both at work. And how would you like it if I tried to sell you a neck pillow right now?
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